Cut to my tummy at 3:15 this afternoon, growling at me furiously because I never did get around to feeding it.

I read somewhere that a person�s body does most of its aging in the time between when you wake and when you first eat. Color me 87 years old.

So anyway, I have been rather busy seeing as The Little Big Man had to leave work due to a family emergency this morning and Rob is in the midst of chemotherapy (I swear my department is totally cursed). But the call of food is undeniable, especially to me, so I decided I�d better make my way toward nourishment post haste.

Why is it they always put the person who speaks the least amount of English at the drive thru window?*

Since I was in a hurry, I jetted off to my local Jack in the Box. However, since I have sworn off of fast food, I opted to order one of their new salads. As I like crunchy things in my salad, I ordered the Asian Chicken Salad.

The person operating the drive thru window did not understand a word I said. She kept trying to offer me a Southwestern Chicken Salad. How does �Asian� translate to �Southwestern� via the intercom system? It�s not even the same number of syllables.

So after trying in vain to get her to understand that I just wanted a fucking Asian Chicken Salad, I said �Forget it, I�m coming up� and just drove up to the window (because by now there was nobody left in front of me anyway).

My local Jack in the Box is apparently obsessed with the Southwestern Chicken Salad; that or they simply have far too many of them on their hands because they still tried to give me one.

I finally got the correct salad and am now back at my desk, eating it as I write this. It�s a good salad, too; especially considering I bought it at Jack in the Box.

*Note to self: Remember that time you and ex-roomie Michelle were in the drive thru line at El Pollo Loco being offered, �some kind of brown cake�?

You 'member...'member?

Michelle places order.

Faceless Voice of Middle-Eastern Origin at the Other End of the Intercom: wah-wah-wah some kind of brown cake?

Michelle: Excuse me?

Faceless Voice of Middle-Eastern Origin at the Other End of the Intercom: wah-wah-wah some kind of brown cake?

Michelle (turning to me, laughing): What did he just say?

Me (also laughing): It sounded like he offered us �some kind of brown cake.�

Michelle (to Faceless Voice of Middle-Eastern Origin at the Other End): Uh�no thanks.

Faceless Voice of Middle-Eastern Origin at the Other End of the Intercom: That�ll be�wah-wah-wah-wah�

Michelle (to me): what the�?

Me: I have no idea.

Michelle (to Faceless Voice of Middle-Eastern Origin at the Other End): Uh�OK�(and we drive forward, laughing ourselves silly)

Me: They probably get all pissed at people because nobody has their money ready when they get to the window, never realizing that nobody understands a fucking thing they say.

Again Me (and still laughing because I am like that): �some kind of brown cake�� I mean, if even he doesn�t know what the hell it is, why would we eat it?

Ah�good times�

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